Page 97 of Terms of Exposure
"What are you, a fucking parrot?" I snapped.
"Touché." He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them. "But I don't think therapy should be the only thing we implement."
I lifted a brow. "Bold timing."
"Are you in this, or are you out?" he challenged.
My lips betrayed me, but I didn't answer. I let the uncertainty simmer.
He shifted, the confidence thinning.
"I guess I'm in."
He smiled, bright and true.
"The rest of the rules. Do you remember them?"
"Nap times and meals."
He huffed a laugh despite himself. "I never said anything about nap times."
"It was implied."
He studied my face, his expression shifting—something settling into place behind his eyes.
"I want to actually enforce what we agreed to. Not let it sit there unused while we both pretend we're fine."
Silence settled between us, heavy with implication.
My pulse picked up speed.
"So what does that look like? Specifically?"
"You remember what else I asked of you?"
"The check-ins," I said. "The honesty about how I'm actually feeling." A pause. "The rest."
"All of it." He held my gaze. "I'm done letting those slide. Donetelling myself I'll get to it when things calm down. Things don't calm down. Not for people like us. If I keep waiting for the perfect moment, I'll be waiting forever."
I was quiet for a long minute, processing.
"And if I struggle with them?"
"Then we figure it out together. Adjust. Adapt. But you don't get to just... ignore them anymore. Neither of us do."
"I wasn't ignoring them," I countered.
The corners of his mouth tightened.
"I know," he said rougher than before. "But I was."
"You were drowning. Overwhelmed with—"
"I was." No denial. No deflection. "But so were you."
He looked at his hands.
"And I'm sorry I didn't step up sooner."
